


Divergent

by Mercenary



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercenary/pseuds/Mercenary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All it takes is one small change of decision to change something. Instead of killing all the other Herald-mages before Vanyel, his dark foe choses to strike at him, and from there on everything could change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divergent

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning out a series of Vanyel AU that may eventually be posted on here. Due to the difficult nature of writing in the Valdemar verse with these exquisite characters, I'm trying to work on characterisation a little, mostly to get practice with Vanyel firstly. It will be a long and difficult progress, but well worth the effort since I'll be posting quick one-shots to try and get an idea of how to write him. 
> 
> Apologies ahead for formatting, errors and all that are present.

His eyes burned. A giant hand closed itself around his chest, as his lungs caught fire. He tried to breathe, and only increased the pain.  
His heart spasmed; once, twice- then exploded. He found himself sprawled facedown over the table, the rest of the Councillors, his father among them, frantically trying to revive him.

He stared at the lines of the map just under his nose, unable to remember what they were (C) Mercedes Lackey, Magic’s Price, page 176)

 

 

His body spasmed, everything on fire. His chest ached - like nothing he’d ever experienced. He could hear Yfandes scream for him - he couldn’t answer no matter how hard he tried.

His body burned - only to freeze. He tried to blink - he couldn’t - no matter how hard he tried to move. His lungs wouldn’t work, he thought he might be dying, all he could hear was Yfandes screaming.

The giant hand squeezed again, Vanyel fought through the agony - nothing could compare to the pain of that Sovvan night. Stefen, Vanyel thought with growing horror, finding renewed strength to out-think this torture.

.: Vanyel - you must fight back! :. Yfandes screamed, sending reserves of her strength to him. His pain was her pain - despite that, she gave him a moment's relief from this attack.

Vanyel knew this was wrought by magecraft, not simply his body giving way to the strain it had been under for many years.

Aware of people dragging him from where he had collapsed forwards - like a half empty sack. He blinked through the pain, trying to centre himself as he clenched his fists and flung himself along the line feeding the attack on him.

.: Blast it now, Vanyel :. Yfandes snarled, melding with him further, enveloping him in her protection. He needn’t worry that this unseen foe would kill him before he could act.

In the haze of pain - nothing was clear. As distantly aware he was of the panic around him, of Healers and Heralds swarming about him, trying hopelessly to make him respond. Soon Savil would make it here.

True genuine fear slammed into him then. Not for himself - only for his mother in all except flesh. If this enemy could strike at him so strongly, what would happen if he turned his gaze to Savil?

“Keep Savil away,” he choked out, alarming those around him, wasting vital concentration as his body spasmed again.

Tears of pain etched a path down his burning cheeks. He couldn’t moisten his dry mouth; couldn’t say anything else. He travelled into a place he didn’t know; following instinct because his mind was stunned from the pain.

And blasted he did. It was an explosion of pure raw power; he hadn’t the mind to prepare anything more precise. His channels burned as if he was gating; half delirious with pain he didn’t feel as if it made him feel anyway worse.

“Van!”

“Son, Vanyel, can you hear -”

Vanyel nodded, opening his eyes that he hadn’t even noticed he’d closed. Feeling relief as someone pulled him up and seated him - ignoring protests from the Healers.

By now all manner of people; servants and even a few Bards had squeezed into the room. Nobody made any move to dismiss them, and he hadn’t the strength or care to do so. Pushing his way through was Stefen, his lovely face white and pinched, as if he’d experienced what - he probably had - Vanyel realised.

“Someone - another mage - tried to kill me,” he croaked, exhausted, utterly spent. “Powerful enough to break through my shields from a distance. He’s been killing off Herald-Mages for years, and we never noticed...oh gods.”

He doubled over. Falling onto his hands and knees, ones that could barely support him, and emptied his stomach of whatever was in it.

For a moment his throat burned - causing him to think the attacker had recovered enough to resume his attempt, until he realised that it was acid from his near-empty stomach causing it.

“Don’t you dare try and get up, Van. Whoever it was - he nearly succeeded, “ Stefen cried out, kneeling beside him, carefully guiding Vanyel upright. “Oh Gods - you burned so bad - I thought you were gone...”

Tears fell unashamedly from his lifebonded.

Despite the fact they were not alone, at that moment Vanyel could not bring himself to care about image, reputation and all manner of things that had seemed so important only an hour before.

He welcomed Stefen's tight grip of his hand, drawing strength from his life-bonded, who met his gaze fiercely, promising all manner of punishment to the one responsible.

“It won’t happen again,” Vanyel responded grimly, feeling Yfandes fierce agreement, realising just how many had filled the room. “Next time - there will be a next time - we’ll be ready for him.”


End file.
